


Hugs, Kisses and Alternate Universes

by orderlychaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AUs, Cuddle for Warmth, F/M, Fluff, Hugs, Kissing, M/M, drunk!clint, tumblr prompt fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 12,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of all the fics I've posted to tumblr, including the hug and kissing memes that went around :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clint/Phil, Car racing AU (Fast and the Furious)

For kultiras, Clint, Phil, Jasper, Melinda — Fast & the Furious AU? (or general car racing AU)

“I don’t get it, man.  Who is this guy?  Why the fuck does everyone worship him so bad?”

Clint Barton was distracted from the sweet rumble of engines and the girls in short skirts by the comment from the guys next to him.  His eyes flicked over them briefly.   The guys were in their early twenties and dressed in the ripped jeans and leather jackets that were practically the uniform of all the young adrenaline junkies that came to try their luck and racing skills against the best.  Clint knew who the real players were and those three definitely weren’t.

“You mean Coulson, right?” one of the regulars said, leaning towards the young guys.

Feeling a smirk curl his lips, Clint glanced up as he heard the familiar roar of Phil’s heavily modified 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle racing towards the end of the circuit.  All eyes were on the sleek silver car as Phil smoothly nudged his final competitor out of the way, sending the car spinning, and crossed the finish line, executing a smooth handbrake stop right in front of the spectators.  As Phil stepped out of the car, Clint let his eyes slid down his lover’s body.  Phil wore jeans and a black t-shirt like most of the men gathered for the street race, but there was a sense of calm and command to Phil that all the others lacked.  Of course, right now Clint could see the subtle signs of the adrenaline high Phil was riding, which spelled fun for later, that Clint could guarantee.

“ _That’s_ Coulson?” one of the young guys said.

“I wouldn’t underestimate him, if I were you,” the regular said with a snort.  “That man is a stone cold badass.  One of the best drivers I’ve ever seen.  There are only two people who’ve ever beaten him in a race and they’re both on his crew.”

“You’re talking about Hawkeye and Melinda May, right?” one of the other young guys said.

“Mm hmm,” the regular agreed and Clint felt his smirk widen a little as Jasper Sitwell and Melinda May stepped up beside Phil.  “You know those high-speed robberies everyone’s been talking about?” the regular continued.  “Word has it that was Coulson and his crew.  I’d think twice about going up against them if you value your life.”

Clint’s smirk widened as he heard that, his thoughts immediately drifting back to their latest heist; Phil’s flawless planning, the adrenaline rush that came with high-precision driving and the sleek black cars they had hidden in lock up where he and Phil had celebrated their latest success by christening the backseat.  The word on the street wasn’t wrong.  Clint gave a low chuckle as he pushed himself off the car he’d been leaning against and stepped out of the shadows.  The young men and even the regular sucked in sharp breaths at the sight of him.

“Good advice,” he said.  “In this world, it’s ride or die.”

Sauntering forward, Clint smirked at the looks being shot in his direction as he walked over to where Phil, Jasper and Melinda were still standing, Phil pocketing the money he’d won from his race.  “So…” he drawled, leaning back against the car beside Phil, their shoulders pressed together as he let his gaze wander over the crowd again.  “Have you finished schooling everyone yet?”

“I think so,” Phil said, a tiny smirk of his own curving his mouth.  “I have our next target too.”

“Oh yeah?” Clint asked.

“Scoped out and ready for surveillance,” Jasper said with a grin.

Clint grinned back.  “They’ll never see us coming.”

Melinda snorted, leaning up against Jasper for a moment.  “Come on, Hawkeye,” she said, her eyes glinting with amused challenge.  “When does anyone ever see us coming?”


	2. Nick/Phil, Wizards AU

dazzledfirestar, Nick/Phil wizards AU

“Really?  This is my life now?”

Nick Fury glanced up at the sound of his lover’s grumble and hummed in inquiry as Phil paced in front of the fireplace, glaring at the piece of parchment in his hand.  Most of Nick’s mind was still stuck on the spell he was trying to create, because even though he was pretty sure he had most of the ingredients he needed downstairs, it was only a few nights to the full moon and you could never trust pixies.

“Nick, are you even listening to me?” Phil grumbled.

Raising his head from the book where he was writing a few absent notes, Nick shot him a look.  “When do I ever _not_ listen to you, Phil?” he asked pointedly.

Phil looked slightly sheepish.  “Sorry,” he said, walking over to run his hand down Nick’s arm and as always, Nick shivered as Phil’s magic brushed against his.  “The Queen of Air and Darkness has summoned me, Nick.  For a whole _month_.  There’s nothing I can do to get out of it this time and you know how I hate Fae politics.”

Nick smirked.  “You only hate Fae politics so much because the Queen keeps trying to marry you off to her youngest daughter,” he said.

The look Phil gave him promised retribution if he didn’t start sounding at least a little more sympathetic.  Nick just shook his head, before holding finishing his spell notes with a flourish and holding them out to Phil.  “There _is_ a way you can get out of it, actually,” he said.  “Someone just has to have a prior claim on you.”

Phil looked down at the spell and then back up at Nick, his beautiful blue eyes widened slightly with surprise.  “Nick, this is a binding spell designed to bond two people together,” he said.  “One that’s strong enough that Fae magic can’t break it.”

“I know,” Nick grinned.

“You want to _bond yourself_ to me?”

Nick took the book out of Phil’s hands so that he could wrap his own around his lover.  “Phil,” he said.  “That’s always been a question with only one answer.”  He paused to slide his hands lower and smirked again.  “What do you say, Phil?” he said.  “Want to get married?”


	3. Clint/Phil, Zoo Keepers AU

nasty-show, If you are still doing this Clint/Coulson Zoo Keepers :)

Phil bit back a smile, because _of course_ he found Clint Barton with the Red-tailed Hawks.  Really, where else would he be?  It never ceased to amaze Phil that his fellow zookeeper could be so gentle with the birds of prey and yet so gruff and irritable with his colleagues -- although, in the case of Stark, Phil really couldn’t blame him.  Hanging back, Phil watched Clint with Kate, their newest young female, as he carefully calmed her from whatever had upset her.  The hawk looked perfectly natural sitting on Clint’s arm like that, Clint’s gaze as sharp and his mannerisms as smooth as the birds he loved.

Almost as if his thoughts had conjured it, Clint snapped his sharp gaze to where Phil was standing.  “You want something, sir?” he asked.

Smoothing his suddenly sweating palms on the khaki pants of his uniform, Phil cleared his throat and tried to tell himself this wasn’t supposed to be difficult.  People asked other people out all the time and the world didn’t implode.  “Ah, I just wanted to see if you were finished for the day,” Phil said.

Clint shrugged, careful not to disturb the hawk on his arm.  “I wanted to settle Kate down before I left, but I clocked out already, so you don’t need to worry,” he said.

“I’m not here to reprimand you for taking care of our animals, Clint,” Phil said softly.  “I’m, ah, here for something else.  And even if I wasn’t, the fact that you care so much should be applauded, not criticised.  Some of our hawks might not have had to be here if everyone was as dedicated and protective as you are.”

Phil felt himself blush a little at the words coming out of his mouth, but he really couldn’t help it.  He’d been impressed and a little awed by Clint dedication and patience from the first day he’d arrived at the zoo and it was one of the things he’d come to really admire about the other man.  Of course, there was a large chance that Clint wouldn’t like Phil gushing over him quite so much -- a chance that was growing, the longer Clint stared at him with that stony expression.

“So why are you here then?” Clint asked, lifting a hand to stroke Kate gently when she shifted restlessly.

Phil cleared his throat again.   _Words, Phil, you can use them_ , he reminded himself.  This wasn’t supposed to be difficult.  “I, ah, had a question for you,” Phil said, stumbling over his tongue a little.  “I was just wondering -- after you’ve settled the hawks, of course -- if you wanted to maybe go and _grabadrinkwithme_?”

Clint’s eyes widened in surprise as Phil fought the urge to facepalm.  He was a well-respected zookeeper at a prestigious zoo, he ran his staff efficiently and always maintained the best care and environment for all his animals, but apparently, Phil still couldn’t ask out a very attractive man like a functioning adult.

“You mean, like a date?” Clint asked.

“I, well, yes,” Phil said.  “If you wanted.  Doesn’t have to be alcoholic.  We could do coffee.  Or milkshakes.  Or… okay, I’m just going to shut up now.”

A bashful smile spread across Clint’s face that turned it from attractive to breathtaking.  “Yeah, okay,” he said, ducking his head a little.  “I’d really like that.”

“You would?” Phil blurted before he could stop himself.

“Yeah, I would,” Clint said.  “I’ll go put Kate back in her roost.”

“Okay,” Phil said.

“Okay.”

Phil grinned.


	4. Clint/Phil, Hockey AU

ralkana, Clint/Coulson. Hockey (or another sport of your choice)

Phil watched as Clint skated across the ice as fluid and graceful as ever, even without the pads and hockey stick of his chosen profession.  Without the bulk of padding under his jersey and the helmet obscuring his smile, Clint looked strangely vulnerable and strangely free at the same time.  On the ice during a game, he was unstoppable; fast and unpredictable, his sharp eyes able to spot openings and opportunities no one else could.  Phil was always amazed by that -- every game, even after knowing each other for so long -- and it wasn’t hard to see why Clint was the best goal scorer in the New York _Avengers_.  Or why he’d been christened Hawkeye by his fans.

Yet, skating like this, away from games and fans and training, Clint’s smile reminded Phil how much Clint _loved_ the ice and how breathtakingly beautiful he was on it.  If he could, Phil would watch Clint try the graceful, acrobatic tricks he was so fond of and skate in lazy circles all day.

Grinning, Clint skidded to a stop in front of the barrier where Phil was leaning, still unabashedly watching Clint.  Clint’s smile turned soft and unguarded around the edges and Phil was suddenly reminded of the bashful smile on Clint’s face the first time Clint had asked Phil out.  That had been years ago now, but Phil hoped it was a memory that never faded.  Reaching over the barrier, Clint cupped Phil’s cheek and pulled him in for a kiss.  Phil could feel the smooth metal of the wedding band that now encircled Clint’s finger, a perfect match for the one on his.  He smiled as Clint pull away again; Phil still didn’t know what it was that he had done that had caught the attention of the legendary Clint Barton and kept it, but there wasn’t a day that went by where he wasn’t grateful for it.

“Are you going to come and join me, Phil?” Clint asked, motioning to the ice.

“You seem to forget I’m only a doctor, not a player,” Phil told him, but he took Clint’s hand all the same and let his husband tug him out onto the ice.

It hadn’t always been that way -- once, Phil had had his own dreams of being a hockey player on one of the best teams in the league and one day winning the Stanley Cup.  A bad injury during his college days had ended that dream and almost taken his life, but it had also led to Phil becoming the doctor he was today.  He’d worked his way up to being team doctor for the _Avengers_ so he could still be close to the ice he loved as much as Clint did.

Clint snorted, breaking into Phil’s thoughts.  “Haven’t you worked it out yet, Phil?” he said softly, leading Phil in a slow, wide circuit of the rink.  “I can have all the ice in the world and it wouldn’t mean anything if I can’t skate it with you.”

Phil smiled and pulled his husband in for another kiss, because really, what else could he do?


	5. Phil & Jasper, Pastries

ralkana, Phil & Jasper. Donuts or pastry.

It was the scent that Phil registered first; warm and buttery and absolutely, mouth-wateringly good.  It also reminded him that it had been a _very_ long time since he’d last eaten.  His stomach growled loudly as if to punctuate the thought.  Phil looked up, his eyes fixed on the corridor just beyond his office door and his paperwork completely forgotten on his desk.  He couldn’t hear anyone outside his office, but since Phil worked for SHIELD, that didn’t necessarily mean _anything_.

When the smell of freshly-baked pastry continued to taunt Phil from somewhere just outside his office, he narrowed his eyes and climbed cautiously to his feet.  He was armed, he was dangerous and he could take down any threat, so Phil didn’t feel all that concerned that he might be walking into a trap.  Besides, if it was a junior agent, he’d have them re-assigned to Antarctica -- after he’d made them relinquish the pastries.  On silent feet, he crept towards the door, but from this angle, the corridor looked completely empty.  Phil frowned, because the smell was even better now that he was close and he could probably get his hands on the delicious pastries if he hit them hard and fast and grabbed the plate while they were stunned.

A plate suddenly appeared in his doorway -- a plate covered with tasty, still-warm almond croissants, which were Phil’s absolute favourite.  Narrowing his eyes, Phil glared at the offering.  There were only a few people who knew Phil’s weakness for still-warm pastries and Phil could think of only two who would be devious enough to be trying to lure him out of his office with them.  Considering the sleeve wasn’t black leather, Phil was going to guess it was Jasper this time.  He almost wanted to resist on principle, but then his stomach gave another loud, hungry rumble and gave the game away.

With a sigh, Phil gave in.

Reaching out to grab the plate, Phil didn’t even resist when Jasper used it to tug him so that he was standing just outside his office door in the corridor.  Using his other hand, he reached over and grabbed one of the croissants -- just in case Jasper decided to take them away -- and looked over at his friend.  Jasper was smirking at him, his back against the wall of the corridor and his arm still stretched out holding the plate.  “Barton owes me ten bucks,” he said.

Considering his mouth was full, Phil resorted to raising an eyebrow in question.  Jasper’s smirk grew.  “He bet me that I couldn’t lure you out of your office before midnight,” he explained.  “Yet, here you are.  Outside your office.”

Phil rolled his eyes.  “You played dirty.”

Jasper shrugged.  “No, I knew you hadn’t eaten dinner because you seem to think of food and mealtimes as things other people do,” he said.  “Think of this as two birds with one stone.”

He grinned as he let go of the plate and Phil almost defensively hugged it to his chest.  “Have fun with the paperwork,” Jasper said, before sauntering off down the corridor, whistling.

For a moment, Phil watched him go, before he shrugged and walked back into his office.  He probably should have been mad, but, well…

_Pastries._


	6. Phil & Jasper, Pasties

erindizmo, Just because. Phil & Jasper. Pasties.

Pausing in his quest for fresh coffee from the SHIELD cafeteria, Phil blinked once in surprise and backed up a few steps in the corridor.  Glancing into one of the rooms on the upper deck of the Helicarrier, Phil realised that, no, his caffeine-deprived brain had not been playing tricks on him and Agent Jasper Sitwell was indeed half-naked and covered in glitter.  While mildly alarming, it still wasn’t the weirdest thing Phil had seen this week and he didn’t know whether he should be worried about the insanity that seemed inherent in his job and life or the fact that the sight of Jasper in tiny black boxer-briefs and silver glitter did _not_ raise his internal alarm bells.

“Interesting new look, Jasper,” he said dryly.

The other agent straightened from where he’d been slightly hunched over a bag, muttering to himself and shot Phil a dark glare over his shoulder.  Phil bit back a smile, because Jasper’s usual glasses were nowhere in sight and someone had given him Egyptian-style black eyeliner around his eyes at one point, even though it was now slightly smudged.  “Do I want to know why it looks like you went undercover as a stripper, Jasper?” Phil asked.

“No,” Jasper said, sounding rather angry.  “You do not.”

“So this would be the wrong moment to compliment your ass in those briefs?” Phil said, biting back his amusement.

“Phil!” Jasper snapped, whirling around and planting his hands on his hips.

It was only because Phil was a highly trained and disciplined agent of SHIELD that he did not let his jaw drop or give voice to the laughter bubbling in his throat when he caught sight of Jasper’s front.  Even more covered in glitter than the rest of him, he was also adorned with two bright gold and glittery pasties on his nipples.  “Don’t you dare, you asshole!” Jasper threatened.

Phil valiantly tried to hold onto his laughter.  “Of course not, Agent,” he said.

“Oh, shut up,” Jasper scowled.  “I’m going to go take a damn shower.”  As he moved to grab a towel and head towards the thankfully private bathroom attached to the room they were in, he turned back to level Phil with a fearsome glare that was actually pretty intimidating with the slightly smeared eyeliner around his eyes.  “And, Phil?” he said, his tone low and dangerous.  “If I find out you told Barton even a single second of this, I will find a way to make sure you have to fill out the backlog of paperwork belonging to _every single_ level seven agent SHIELD has, okay?”

Phil nodded.  “Noted,” he said.

He at least waited until Jasper had slammed the door to the bathroom before bursting into laughter.


	7. Clint/Phil, Hugs

ralkana, Clint/Coulson. Hugs.

Clint had a problem.  He knew that.  Even if he hadn’t, Natasha’s obsessive need to keep pointing it out would have given him a clue.  He wasn’t stupid.  And it wasn’t even that much of a big deal.  He was totally dealing with it.  Just because Phil Coulson was the best giver of hugs in the history of _ever_ \-- in the whole _universe_ of ever -- didn’t mean things had to get weird.

“Clint, you’re staring morosely into your beer again.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, looking up to glare at Natasha, because he was pretty sure this was all her fault and flailed a little when he almost fell sideways off his bar stool.

Thankfully, proving she wasn’t completely evil, Nat caught him by his shirt and yanked him up again.  He gave her a slightly dopey grin and then blinked, because how much alcohol had Nat fed him anyway?

“You’ll thank me in a minute,” Nat said and Clint peered at her, because she wasn’t making any sense.

Clint was about to ask what she meant and what diabolical thing she was planning that would probably get him into trouble with his handler, when Coulson magically appeared right beside him like a _ninja_.  ”Whoa, _fuck_ ,” Clint said, startling a little and sliding off his stool again.

This time it was Coulson who caught him.  Clint felt the fine material of Coulon’s suit beneath his fingers.  ”Barton,” Coulson said as Clint blinked and looked up.  ”Are you drunk?”

“Maybe?” Clint hedged, but Coulson didn’t look mad.  Instead, his (blue, so very _blue_ ) eyes were amused and there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Do I dare ask what has prompted this?” Coulson asked.

It was only then that Clint realised how close his handler still stood. He could see the warmth of amusement and fond exasperation in Coulson’s eyes and feel Coulson’s arms around him still holding him up and all Clint would have to do would be lean forward just a little…

“He wants a hug,” Natasha said bluntly from somewhere behind him.

Clint opened and shut his mouth a few times, before he turned to glare at her.  " _Traitor_!” he hissed.

He turned back to find Coulson smiling at him, still looking amused.  Which was good, because Clint had been convinced that when Coulson found out about the hugging thing he would pretty much have Clint reassigned.  The few times they had hugged had mainly been because of missions and Clint bleeding out and that one time when Clint had just come back from that really long mission with Sitwell, where they’d gone off comms for a few days…

And Clint had missed something, hadn’t he?

“Nat…” he asked, turning in Coulson’s arms to see her again because _Coulson still hadn’t let go_ and Clint was beginning to think that was a sign.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, rolling her eyes, but her tone was affectionate.  Then she looked over at Coulson.  “You’re going to fix this, right?”

“I’m going to fix this,” Coulson said calmly and Clint whipped around to stare at him because this was the part where he was getting the painfully kind and polite brush-off, right?

“I… sir…” Clint stuttered, trying and failing to untangle himself from Coulson because apparently his motor skills were no longer functioning.

“Phil,” Coulson said.

“Wh… what?”  Clint just sort of blinked at him for a moment.

Coulson -- _Phil_ \-- smiled at him again.  “Come on, Clint, let’s get you home,” he said softly and Clint sort of _melted_ , which was not entirely the fault of the alcohol Nat had tricked him into drinking.

“You called me Clint,” he said.

“I did,” Phil replied.  “And in the morning, when you’re sober, if you still want that hug, I’ll give you as many as you want, okay?”

Clint grinned, because that right there was better than getting a new bow and a whole new quiver of arrows and holy crap, Phil’s eyes were warm and soft and full of an emotion that Clint was pretty sure was spreading through his own chest and he didn’t quite want to name.

“Okay,” he replied.


	8. Clint/Phil, Mass Effect AU

tehenrique, uhhhh mshep!Clint/kaidan!Phil ?

Major Phil Coulson, human Sentinel, Systems Alliance Marine and the second-ever human Spectre fought the urge to facepalm, because really, he’d rather face down the Reapers again.  He ignored the drunken laughter of his _Normandy_ crewmates and stared hard at his beer, trying really hard to ignore the insane _wiggle_ being directed at him.  Commander Clint Barton was the first-ever human Spectre and pretty much Savior of the Entire Universe, a man who’d died and come back to life and had a crew that would -- and literally _had_ \-- follow him into the fires of Hell…

…and he absolutely _could not dance_.

It was embarrassing.

"Come on, Phil," Clint called out, grinning and executing a dance move that made him resemble a drunk giraffe.  "Dance with me!"

"No," Phil said flatly.

Clint pouted, which should not be nearly as adorable as it was.  “You promised!” he said.  “If we defeated the Reapers -- which we _did_ \-- you said you’d dance with me!”

Phil opened his mouth to say ‘no’ for the millionth time, when Natasha Romanoff, intergalactic assassin, thief and spy, literally shoved him out of his chair at Clint.  Laughter erupted behind him as Clint grinned happily and pulled Phil forward into his arms.  Resigned to his fate, Phil started dancing, thankful that with Clint’s arms around his waist, at least someone wasn’t going to lose an eye anymore.


	9. Thor & Phil, sick!hug

BROTP  Phil&Thor, sick!fic

Phil Coulson tried to bite back a harsh cough, but all he really succeeded in doing was making his coughing fit worse.  Phil _hated_ being sick.  Being sick was horrible and inconvenient and achey.  It meant he couldn’t do things at his normal efficient standard, while people simultaneously gave him sympathetic looks and tried to switch his coffee for _tea_.  Phil didn’t _want_ tea.  He wanted coffee and for this stupid cold to _go away_.

Sniffing irritably, Phil walked into the briefing room and glared at everyone gathered inside.  Not that he really needed to, because no one was paying attention to his entrance anyway; Tony Stark was waving his hands and deep in conversation with both Dr Banner and JARVIS -- who’d gotten into the SHIELD servers _again_ by the sounds -- while Natasha and Clint were arm wrestling and Captain Rogers was frowning at something on the Starkpad in his lap.  Placing the files he carried on the large conference table, Phil cleared his throat painfully and prepared to start the briefing.

“Where’s Thor?” Phil asked as the rest of the Avengers turned to look at him, his voice rough and irritatingly quiet because of his sore throat.

“Shit, sir,” Clint said, his eyes widening.  “You look like crap.  Shouldn’t you be at home, you know, _resting_?”

Phil frowned.  “I’m perfectly capable of running this briefing, Barton,” he said.

“Yeah... ah, no,” Stark said.  “I feel like I’m going to catch the Black Death just looking at you.”

“Tony,” Rogers said with a sigh.

“You do look pretty sick, Agent Coulson,” Dr Banner said quietly.  “Periods of rest and sleep help reduce the length of time and severity of symptoms.  There is a reason why most doctors recommend that.”

“Thank you, Doctor Banner...” Phil began, trying not to scowl at the faint rebuke because he was a grown man and an agent, damn it, and he could work if he wanted to.

“Son of Coul!” Thor’s voice boomed out from behind him, interrupting him.

Phil turned to the door, ready to ask Thor to take a seat, when he was struck by the concerned expression in Thor’s eyes.  Thor was frowning, too, which was a little strange on the normally happy demigod.  “It is indeed as people have told me,” Thor said gravely.  “Son of Coul, you are not well.”

“It’s just a stupid cold,” Phil said, somewhat sulkily.

“Illnesses such as this are indeed vexing,” Thor agreed.  “Thankfully on Asgard we have a cure for them.”

“You do?” Phil said, perking up.

Thor nodded.  Then, he stepped forward and wrapped Phil up in a tight hug.  For a second, Phil tensed in surprise, because that had definitely not been what he was expecting.  The feeling of Thor’s strong arms was actually quite nice, however, and it felt good to rest his tired and aching body against something so warm and strong for a minute, so before Phil really knew what he was doing, he’d relaxed into the hug.  Thor hugged Phil a little closer and Phil was soon surrounded by comforting warmth and the smell of ozone and apples. “You should be resting, my friend,” Thor said quietly.  “You work far too hard.”

Phil sighed.  “You’re probably right,” he conceded, because now that he was leaning against Thor he really didn’t want to move.

“Really?” Stark’s voice said somewhere behind him.  “On Asgard you actually hug plagues away?  Are you sure you’re not related to Care Bears, Sparky?”

Both Thor and Phil ignored him.

“Come, I will take you home,” Thor said.  “The Asgardian medicine for colds is best taken where a bed is nearby.”

Phil gently pulled away from the demigod and arched an eyebrow, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile from his face.  “It’s Asgardian mead, isn’t it?” he said.

Thor grinned.  “Yes,” he agreed.  “Drink enough of it and you shall forget your aches and pains entirely.”

“Come on, boss,” Clint said, appearing at Phil’s elbow.  “You don’t want to ignore a suggestion from the Crown Prince of Asgard, do you?”

Phil looked between Clint and Thor and their very similar expressions or stubborn concern and gave in.  “No,” he said.  “I wouldn’t want to do that.”


	10. Clint/Phil, cuddling for warmth

It was fucking _cold_.

So cold Clint was pretty sure he was going to freeze his nuts off, but he kept that thought to himself.  Phil had already threatened to taze him if he uttered one more complaint.  Huffing in annoyance when Phil opened the car door to climb back inside, Clint resigned himself to glaring from underneath the blankets he had wrapped around him as Phil let in a blast of frigid air and a flurry of snow.  Even underneath the large parka Phil was wearing, he looked _cold_ , so Clint relented a little and begrudgingly shifted over so Phil could share the nest he’d made.  Although, if Phil made _one_ bird joke, he would not feel guilty about kicking the other agent out of the damn car.

It was all Natasha’s fault anyway.  If she hadn’t gone undercover in Latvia, she wouldn’t have needed backup and if she hadn’t needed backup, then he and Phil wouldn’t have had to fly to this iceblock of a country to provide support.  And if they hadn’t come to this iceblock of a country, they wouldn’t be trapped in a freaking blizzard in a tiny, rented car that was held together by duct tape and was really, _really_ shit at keeping out the cold.  Clint shivered again as an icy draft somehow made it down the back of his neck.

Yep.  This was totally Nat’s fault.

The sound of the blizzard outside the car was also kind of freaky.  The old metal of the car doors creaked and there were enough gaps to let in gusts of air which kept the air inside the car hovering somewhere between _freezing_ and _is that a penguin inside my pants_.  The howling of the wind rushing past didn’t help either and Clint would rather be in a hundred other places than here, including that time in Burma when he and Phil had been pinned down by an entire HYDRA cell with two handguns and one lousy MRE between them.

“Come here,” Phil said, his voice muffled by the scarf over his face.

“Huh?” Clint said, because he wasn’t sure he was done being grumpy yet.

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Phil shifted closer to Clint and with some sort of ninja move, Clint found his blankets suddenly yanked away, while he landed flat on his back on the back seat.  He opened his mouth to protest, but the words dried up in his throat when he saw Phil efficiently stripping himself of his parka, before settling down to lie on the back seat right next to Clint.  Or rather, _half on top_ of Clint because the back seat wasn’t big.  Phil re-wrapped the blankets around them and added his parka on top.  Clint wriggled a little, because it wasn’t as if the car had a comfortable back seat, before Phil gave another sigh and turned over.  Warm, strong arms wrapped around Clint pulling him back against an equally warm and strong chest and Clint had to resist the urge to pinch himself to check if he was dreaming.  Slowly, the warmth between them started to filter down to Clint’s frozen bones and he relaxed into the embrace, because it was really _nice_ and Clint wasn’t sure if he’d ever have a chance to snuggle like this with Phil again, so he was going to make the most of his current good fortune.

Of course, he couldn’t not say anything, because that just wouldn’t be him.

“Sir, are we cuddling?” he said.

“Clint, I will kick your ass out into the snow,” Phil warned.

Clint curled a little closer to Phil’s warmth.  “I didn’t say I _objected_ to the cuddling,” he muttered.  “I just... I don’t know if I’ve just _cuddled_ with anyone before.  Even if this is just platonic cuddling for warmth.  And, crap, I’m just going to shut up now...”

“Clint?” Phil said.

“Uh, yeah?”

“After the blizzard is over and we rescue Natasha and get out of Latvia, I think you and I need to have a conversation.”

Clint winced.  “Are we going to have to talk about what’s appropriate behaviour again?” he asked, wondering just how badly he’d just screwed his relationship with his handler.

Phil’s arms tightened around him.  “No,” Phil replied.  “I was thinking more along the lines of a conversation about other things.  Maybe over dinner.”

For a moment, all Clint could do was blink at the stained upholstery of the back seat.  Then, carefully, he wriggled around so he could look Phil in the face.  Phil was blushing faintly, but his eyes were clear and determined and so very, very blue.  “Like a date kind of dinner?” Clint said softly.

Phil nodded.  “Yes,” he replied.  “A date kind of dinner.”

Clint couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.  Maybe he didn’t hate Latvia after all.  “I’d like that,” he said.  “A lot.”

“Good,” Phil said with a soft smile of his own.

They stayed like that until the blizzard finally blew itself out, wrapped around each other and sharing warmth, watching as the world froze around them.


	11. Clint/Phil, hugs from behind

Clint/Coulson, hugs from behind

As the junior agents walked out of the briefing room, Agent Phil Coulson let out a quiet, but relieved sigh.  It had been a long week -- hell, it had been a long _month_ \-- and he was grateful that it was finally coming to an end.  Right now, Phil wanted nothing more than to pack up his things, go home to his apartment and maybe spend the entire weekend with his husband, snuggling on the couch.

“Tired?” a familiar voice asked as strong arms wrapped around Phil from behind.

Gratefully, Phil sank back against Clint’s strong chest and smiled as he felt Clint press a kiss to his neck, just above his shirt collar.  “I’m exhausted,” Phil said.

“Well, the new team you’ve put together is certainly... interesting,” Clint said.

Phil snorted.  “What they are is psychotic.  Did you know what Agent Carlisle did today during the simulated dragon attack?  She stood up, brushed the dust from her jacket and asked the ten-foot high dragon if he realised how inconvenient he was being to her schedule.”

Clint muffled his laughter against Phil’s neck, before brushing a kiss to his jaw in apology.  “That sounds like a very similar complaint to some of the ones you had about me, once,” he said.  “Besides, didn’t _you_ once try to negotiate with the holographic dragon?”

“Lies and heresy,” Phil said with a smile.  “And it wasn’t a holographic dragon, it was a real one.  I was having a bad day.”

He felt Clint shift behind him and turned to see his husband raise both eyebrows at him.  “You asked a _real_ dragon not to burn half of Latvia?” Clint said.

“Technically, I asked a real dragon if he would _please_ not burn half of Latvia.  My mother raised me to be polite, you know,” Phil replied.

“Oh, well, yes, I can see how a dragon would be concerned about _manners_ ,” Clint said with a roll of his eyes, before pulling Phil in by his tie for a long kiss.

When Phil finally pulled back, Clint’s eyes had darkened and his cheeks were faintly flushed, and the appealing sight made Phil even more determined to pack up and go home.  “Manners are important, Clint,” he said.  “Sometimes you can’t solve everything  with an arrow.”

“Now _that’s_ lies and heresy,” Clint said.

Giving in, Phil gave a soft chuckle and reached down to catch one of Clint’s hands in his.  “Come on, I want to go home and Fury definitely owes me a weekend after this,” he said.

Clint grinned.  “Now that sounds like a plan,” he agreed.


	12. Melinda/Jasper, hurt/comfort hug

Melinda/Jasper, hurt/comfort hug

Jasper frowned, worry making his stomach clench as he searched the SHIELD offices for Melinda.  It had been eight hours since she’d gotten back from her latest mission and she should have been done with the debrief by now.  Even after such a FUBAR shit storm of a mission.  Jasper had already checked in with SHIELD medical and between that and the preliminary reports he’d read, he’d pieced enough of it together.

The mission had been one of the bad ones.  One of the ones where less agents came back than left and those that did would bear the scars of it forever.  Melinda had tried everything she could, she'd resisted and protected the junior agents and fought as hard as she could, but none of it had helped.  She’d been discharged from medical with a mild concussion and enough bruises and cuts that she’d be feeling them for a while, but she was alive and she was whole and Jasper really, really wanted to find her.

Heading to the lower floors on a hunch, he found Melinda on the deserted range, calmly shooting large holes in a series of paper targets.  “Hey, Melinda,” he greeted quietly when she appeared to have finally run out of bullets.

“Did you want something, Agent Sitwell?”

Jasper winced slightly at the detached tone.  This wasn’t good.  Feigning casualness, Jasper leaned against the nearby wall and crossed his arms over his chest.  “I thought we agreed you were going to call me Jasper,” he said.  “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Melinda sighed, still not looking at him.  “No,” she said shortly.

“Are you sure?” Jasper replied.  “Because it really sounds like I did.”

Melinda’s shoulders tensed for a moment.  Then she shot him a glare, before turning back to reloading her gun with sharp, precise movements.  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped.

“Okay,” Jasper said.

“I mean it,” Melinda growled.

Jasper nodded.  “I’m not doubting you,” he said.

Melinda put the gun down on the table with enough force to make Jasper wince, before tossing her protective glasses and ear protectors beside it.  “I mean it, Jasper,” she growled.

When she moved to brush past him, Jasper pushed away from the wall and reached out to gently catch her arm.  “I’m not here to talk to you about the mission,” he said softly.  “Although, if you really want to, we can.”

“I already said I didn’t,” Melinda snapped.

Shaking off his grip, Melinda’s eyes were wary when she looked up at him.  “So what did you come here to talk about?” she asked.

“I just came to ask if you wanted some company?” Jasper said, ignoring the urge to reach out and pull Melinda into his arms.  He wanted nothing more than to make sure Melinda was safe and to try and help whatever was bothering her, but Melinda wouldn’t appreciate a hug right now.

“Why?” Melinda said, her eyes sharp and fierce.  “I’m not exactly great dinner company tonight.”

Jasper forced a smile.  “I don’t just enjoy your company over food, you know,” he began.

“Jasper,” Melinda interrupted, something bright and fragile in her gaze.  “ _Why_?”

The breath froze in Jasper’s lungs for a second.  He couldn’t look away from Melinda, suddenly and painfully aware this was the moment he’d been avoiding for a while now.  The moment where he’d have to confess everything.  Jasper had been scared because it wasn’t easy bearing his heart to such a beautiful, competent and intelligent woman like Melinda, but some instinct told Jasper this was it.  The only moment he’d get.

So he went with it.

“Do you believe in love at first sight, Melinda?” he asked quietly.

Melinda frowned at the change in conversation, but Jasper didn’t let her interrupt again.  “I didn’t,” he said.  “Or at least, I didn’t until that moment on the outskirts of Minsk, when I stepped into this big, black chopper and saw you at the controls.  I think you barely looked at me that entire trip, but I almost drove Coulson crazy with all the questions about you.  I’m pretty sure that was the moment I fell in love with you, Melinda May, and I’ve never regretted it since.”  He paused, sucking in a deep breath.  “So I’m here because I _care_ and I can’t bear the thought of you being alone if you don’t want to be.”

Melinda’s eyes went wide.  “You’re in love?” she echoed.  “With _me_?”

Jasper smiled.  “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?” he said.  “You’re beautiful, smart, funny and deadly.  You’re like the perfect woman.”

Melinda stared at him for a long moment, her eyes bright.  Then she stepped forward and before Jasper could do more than blink in surprise, Melinda had burrowed into his chest and wrapped her arms tightly around his back.  Jasper pulled her close, relieved to finally be able to assure himself beyond a doubt that she was safe.  He held her for a long time, pretending to ignore the wet warmth soaking into the material at his shoulder and gently stroked her back.  Jasper would have been quite happy to stay like that forever, but eventually Melinda pulled back enough that she could look up at him again.

Reaching out, Jasper tenderly wiped the remains of the tears from her cheek with a thumb.  “So,” he said.  “How do you feel about a night on the couch with ludacris action films and as much pizza as you can eat?”

Melinda’s smile was small, but genuine, in reply.  “That sounds great,” she replied.  “There’s just one thing I need to say first.”

Leaning in, Melinda brushed her lips against his in a soft, chaste kiss.  “I love you too, Jasper,” she said.

“Oh,” Jasper said, feeling the ridiculous urge to laugh.  “Awesome.”


	13. Phil & Melinda, fly-by hugs

Phil & Melinda, fly-by hugs

Phil Coulson had his nose buried in a mission file as he walked down the corridor, a cup of coffee balanced in his hand and Jasper Sitwell at his side.  For once, there was no immediate crisis demanded his attention and Phil was internally debating whether or not he’d actually be able to leave his office at a reasonable time that evening.  Maybe he could get a pizza.

Walking around the corner, Phil was about to ask Jasper if he wanted to grab a bite to eat with him when Melinda May strode right up to him and pulled him into a hug.  Blinking, Phil juggled his coffee cup and file and slid a look towards Jasper to see if the other agent knew what was going on.  Jasper proved to be less than helpful as he manfully held back a snigger.  Phil gave Melinda a curious smile when she stepped back and cleared his throat.  “Ah,” he said.  “Hello?”

Jasper burst out laughing.  Phil resolved to throw something at his head later.

“Phil,” Melinda replied with a nod, her dark eyes dancing.

“Not that I’m objecting,” Phil said, “but may I ask what the hug was for?”

Melinda smirked.  “Just proving a point,” she answered.

“I see,” Phil said, not sure that he actually did.  “To whom?”

Arching an eyebrow, Melinda stared at him like she was disappointed he didn’t already know the answer.  “Barton, of course,” she said.

Jasper’s laughter trailed off as he turned to Melinda with wide eyes.  “Oh, you didn’t!” he said.

“I did,” Melinda replied, her smirk growing.

Phil frowned, thoroughly confused.  He hated being confused.  “Well, that’s nice,” he said dryly.  “When you two start making sense, please let me know.”

Melinda rolled her eyes and started walking down the corridor as if she hadn’t spontaneously hugged Phil in the middle of SHIELD.  Phil risked a glance at Jasper, who was also now smirking smugly.  Inwardly, Phil sighed.  He’d be getting no help from Jasper then.

“Oh, Phil?” Melinda called out, turning around.

Raising an expectant eyebrow, Phil turned to face her.  “Yes?” he said.

“When Barton knocks on your office door later today, be a man and ask him out to dinner, all right?” Melinda said, before she winked at him.

No matter what Jasper said, Phil absolutely _did not_ blush at that.

At all.


	14. Melinda/Jasper, jawline kiss

ralkana, Whee! Melinda/Jasper (jawline kiss)

“You know, I can’t believe you didn’t dodge that last punch from Coulson,” Melinda said with a chuckle as she carefully cleaned the cut on Jasper’s chin.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that slow.”

Jasper sent her a sheepish look, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.  They were sitting on the couch in Jasper’s office as Melinda patched him up so that Jasper could save his ego the pain of reporting to medical and reporting that a single punch from Phil Coulson had laid him out flat on his ass.  Melinda didn’t have the heart to tell him that there had been a group of junior agents watching the whole time.  “I would have moved,” Jasper grumbled.  “It was just that you happened to walk into the gym at that precise moment and I got a little distracted.”

His words filled her with warmth, and Melinda couldn’t help but lean forward and gently press her lips to Jasper’s jaw, right where he was going to have a spectacular bruise in the morning.  “Sweet talker,” she said.

Jasper blushed again.  “You’re the only person who thinks so, you know,” he said.  “Most people just think I’m awkward.”

Melinda was quiet for a moment as she finished.  Then, carefully, she turned Jasper’s face towards hers because this was important.  “You, Jasper Sitwell, are an amazing man,” she said, “and I love you.”  Then she smirked.  “Want me and Hawkeye to spread some rumours to prove just how amazing you are?”

Jasper turned red.  “Unlike Hawkeye, I don’t have the urge to spread details of my sex life around the entire base,” he grumbled, still blushing furiously.

“Okay,” Melinda said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet.  “How about we go home and you just prove it to me, then?”

Jasper tugged her to a stop for a moment, before pulling her into a kiss that turned heated pretty quickly.  And if Melinda slid her hands down to grab Jasper’s ass just as one of the junior agents was walking past his open office door, well, she wasn’t going to mention that either.


	15. Clint/Phil, stomach kiss #1

ralkana, Clint/Coulson (stomach kiss)

“Christ, I need a drink,” Phil Coulson muttered to himself as he let himself into the rooms Clint’s had been given at Stark Tower.

It had been a hell of a day.  Phil didn’t even want to think about the details, because even the mere thought of anything other than a long, hot shower and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep was threatening to give him a migraine.  Dumping his briefcase and jacket, Phil kicked off his shoes and began tugging off his tie, for once, not caring about putting things neatly away.  He just wanted to forget this completely awful, horrible day.

Heading down the corridor towards the bedroom, Phil absently hoped Clint would be there, but considering that one of the things he’d had to deal with in his horrible day was Doombots attacking New York -- and therefore the Avenger-related property destruction -- it was just as likely that Clint was off with the other Avengers at a bar somewhere getting into even more trouble.  The thought made Phil frown.  Not because he minded Clint going out and having fun with his team, but because nothing cured a horrible day better than his husband wrapped around him and feeling Clint’s strong, steady heartbeat under his ear.

When Phil reached the bedroom, however, he stopped dead in his tracks for a moment and blinked.

Clint, in characteristic style, was waiting for him on their bed, sprawled out invitingly and wearing nothing but a tiny pair of purple boxer briefs and a smirk.  “Hey, Phil,” he greeted with a wink, before drawing out a bottle of vodka from underneath a pillow.  “I thought in honour of our anniversary we could recreate a few memories.”

Phil shut his eyes and resisted the urge to curse.  Fuck, he’d _forgotten_.  How the hell could he have forgotten?

It might not have been a wedding anniversary, but it was just as important to Clint and Phil and the thought that he hadn’t remembered made Phil feel worse than the rest of his horrible day combined.  The day that sparked this particular anniversary hadn’t been that much different from Phil’s either; he remembered the taste of blood and snow across his tongue as he and Clint had dragged each other into the safe house and the taste of the vodka as they’d tried to remove a few of the horrible memories -- although it had been more the drunken confession of feelings than the alcohol that had really made it a memory worth saving.

Kicking the door shut behind him, Phil tossed his suit jacket over a chair and looked over at his husband.  “Clint…” he said.

Clint rolled his eyes.  “You forgot,” he said, but he seemed more amused than mad.

“Phil,” he said, when Phil kept standing there, feeling guilty.  “I talked to Jasper.  After the day you had, I’m considering it a miracle that you haven’t shot anyone yet.  So stop feeling guilty about forgetting _one_ thing and get your ass over here.”

Toeing off his socks, Phil couldn’t help his smile as he watched Clint.  How he’d been so lucky as to have this incredible man love him back, he didn’t know.  “Okay,” he said softly, “but I still think it defeats the purpose of drinking games to start out naked.”

Clint rolled his eyes again.  “You said that last time too, but look where my kind of drinking games got us?” he pointed out.

Kneeling on the bed, Phil pulled of his shirt and let it drop to the floor.  Clint eyes watched appreciatively, his lips still curved in a smirk.  Leaning down, Phil paused long enough to press a soft kiss to Clint’s stomach, smiling a little as the firm muscles clenched underneath his lips.  “I am sorry,” he whispered against Clint’s skin.

“I know,” Clint said, reaching down to cup Phil’s jaw when he looked up.  “You take care of so many people, Phil, including me.  How about you let me take care of you for once?”

Phil immediately felt his face soften into a smile as he let Clint tug him up for a kiss.  Pulling back, Phil brushed a thumb over Clint’s cheek.  His heart felt full just looking at Clint, warm and smiling beneath him.  “Thank you,” Phil said.

Clint blinked.  “For what?”

“For loving me,” Phil replied.  “And forgiving me when I mess up.”

Clint smiled sweetly up at him.  “Always,” he promised and sealed it with another kiss.


	16. Nick/Phil, chest kiss

dazzledfirestar, Nick/Phil chest kiss

Groaning as Phil arched against him, Nick’s hands scrabbled to shove Phil’s suit jacket off his shoulders.  Phil tasted dark and addicting and faintly of the coffee he was always drinking, his hands yanking Nick against him with enough force to make them stumble.  Not that Nick was about to stop him.  Not when Phil was doing _that_ with his tongue.

Nick grunted as Phil shoved him roughly into the wall, but the sound was swallowed by Phil’s mouth as he deepened the kiss.  Phil’s hands yanked up Nick’s shirt and Nick followed Phil’s questing fingers, pulling out his gun from the small of his back before Phil could.  He blindly reached out to drop it on a nearby table, before Nick returned to his task of stripping every piece of clothing from Phil’s body.

Phil seemed just as impatient as Nick was as he stripped off Nick’s shirt with sharp, efficient movements.  Nick responded by burying his fingers in Phil’s short hair and slanting his mouth possessively over Phil’s.  Pushing away from the wall, Nick moved them both in the direction of the bed.  Phil kept a grip in his belt, dragging Nick with him even as he allowed Nick to lead, and Nick shuddered.  Breaking the kiss when his lungs protested, Nick drew in a rough breath as he helped Phil strip off his shirt, before he stuttered to a halt.

The sight of Phil without a shirt, his blue eyes dark and his lips swollen from Nick’s kisses usually made him a little breathless, but it didn’t usually make his heart clench with fear.  Nick reached out with a hand to skim down the lean muscle of Phil’s chest, ignoring the dark bruises discolouring his skin as his fingers traced out the long, messy scar that ran down Phil’s chest.  The scar that reminded Nick of just how close he’d come to losing Phil, of how it had felt to watch Phil bleeding out in front of him, knowing there had been _nothing_ he could do about it.

“Hey,” Phil said gently, reaching out to cup his chin and nudge Nick’s eyes up to his.  “I’m here, Nick.  I’m safe.  I’m alive.  I’m _here_.”

His throat tight with the words he couldn’t say, Nick leaned in and placed a kiss on Phil’s chest, right over the scar.

“You back with me again?” Phil said.

Pushing away the bad memories, Nick pulled Phil into another deep, furious kiss, before giving him a push towards the bed.  Trapping Phil between him and the mattress, Nick settled his body over Phil’s with a rough moan.  “I’m here,” he replied.  “Now what are you going to do about that?”

Phil arched an eyebrow and expertly flipped them over so he was on top.  “I think I have a few ideas,” he said with a smirk, before leaning down to kiss Nick breathless again.


	17. Phil/Nick, cuddle for warmth

Phil/Nick, Cuddle for warmth

Bingo.

Nick Fury grinned.  He was crouched down low on the ridge as he watched the man below ghost through the snow-covered trees.  It had only taken him four hours to track down the team, but Nick had to admit, they had been a hard few hours and not just because of the cold and the snow.  His agents knew how to cover their tracks.  A small voice in the back of his mind warned him that luck had led Nick to finding them, but Nick prefered to think it was due to his own tactical brilliance.  Besides, Phil wasn’t around to correct him on that.  He was down below with the rest of his team, still blissfully unaware that Nick had found them.

Straightening, Nick left his lookout and slid down the snow-covered slope towards his target, making sure to mask his presence as much as possible.  Phil was a formidable agent and a Big Damn Badass and he really wasn’t easy to sneak up on.  Ducking around a stand of trees, Nick moved ahead of where Phil was going so that he could set up his ambush.  When he decided he was as hidden as he was going to get, Nick carefully crouched and dug his gloved hands into the snow, packing them into neat, round balls.

About thirty seconds later, the barely audible crunch of snow alerted Nick to Phil’s presence.  He tensed, ready to spring up with his snowballs and when movement caught his eye, Nick reacted.  He muffled Clint’s curse of surprise with a snowball to the mouth, before nailing Natasha dead in the chest with his second.  By then, Phil was on the move and with a split-second decision, Nick abandoned the rest of his ammunition in favour of running.

Phil’s retaliatory snowball missed him by inches.

Laughing, Nick dodged the second snowball, catching sight of Maria Hill swinging out of a tree to dump a large pile of snow on Clint’s head.  Clint bellowed in surprise, right before Natasha hit Maria right between the eyes.  Turning his attention back to Phil because Phil was a sneaky bastard, Nick figured there was only one thing left to do.  He caught Phil around the waist with one arm and Phil’s blue eyes went wide as Nick sent them both flying into a nearby snow drift.  They landed with a crunch, Nick on top, just managing to pin Phil beneath him.  Phil immediately tried to buck him off, digging his boots into the snow to give him more leverage, but Nick just held his ground with a grin.

Phil narrowed his eyes and shoved a handful of snow into Nick’s face.  Swallowing another laugh, Nick caught Phil’s wrist and pinned it to the snow beside his head.  Phil arched an eyebrow, but didn’t try to get out of the hold.  “I was wondering when you were going to make your move,” he said instead.  “Natasha was starting to complain.”

“If she didn’t like me following her, she should have done something about it,” Nick replied.

Phil smirked, his eyes sparkling.  “Fine,” he said.  “That’s the last time I try and watch out for your sorry ass.”

Nick grinned again.  “I thought you liked my ass?” he shot back.

Then, because Phil was spread out beneath him and for once there were no bullets flying around them, Nick dipped his head to catch Phil’s lips in a kiss.  The touch of Phil’s cool, soft lips on his made him groan and for a moment, he forgot about all the other SHIELD agents armed with snowballs around them.  It was just him and Phil.  Letting go of Phil’s wrist, Nick slid his gloved fingers over Phil’s jaw, cursing for a moment that he couldn’t feel Phil’s skin through the wool.  The kiss heated up pretty quickly, but it didn’t take long for both of them to get frustrated with the amount of layers they were wearing against the cold.  Truthfully, Nick was also a little surprised none of his agents had taken the opportunity of their distraction and dumped a whole lot of snow on their heads.

“Not to kill the mood,” Phil said when Nick finally leaned back a little, “but can you let me up now?  It’s not exactly warm in this snow drift.”

Rolling his eye, Nick climbed to his feet before reaching down a hand to help Phil to his feet.  Phil shivered.  “You know what this means, don’t you?” Nick said.  Keeping his grip on Phil’s hand, he waited until his lover had regained his feet and then tugged Phil into his arms.  “We need to cuddle for warmth.  It’s the first rule of Arctic Survival.”

Phil gave him a flat look.  “We’re not in the Arctic.  We’re in Upstate New York,” he pointed out dryly.  “Besides, I would have thought the first rule of Arctic Survival was not nailing Hawkeye in the face with a snowball.”

Despite the protest, Phil wrapped his arms around Nick and allowed himself to be pulled into a cuddle.  They stood there for a long moment, sharing warmth despite the heavy jackets they both wore.  It was nice.  They didn’t have a lot of time to just hold each other any more.

“You know what’s even better than cuddling for warmth in the snow?” Phil asked after a while.

“No, but I know you’re about to tell me,” Nick replied.

“Coffee,” Phil said.  “Coffee and the couch we have in front of the nice, big fireplace back in our cabin.”

Nick laughed.  “Shall we leave the kids to it, then?” he suggested.

His words were punctuated by another yowl from Clint on the other side of the trees, followed by Jasper’s evil laughter.  Then Jasper yelped as Natasha no doubt got her silent revenge on his partner’s misfortune.

“I think they can handle it,” Phil agreed.


	18. Clint/Phil, stomach kiss #2

allochthon, A fluffy C/C stomach kiss

Clint Barton muttered a few curses under his breath when the sound of someone banging on his front door registered in his sleepy brain.  Cracking open one eye, it took Clint a moment to recognise that he was in his bed at Stark Tower, which meant the banging on his door was probably due to one of the other Avengers.  Clint didn’t think it meant they had to suit up -- he was pretty sure his phone would be ringing if that was the case -- so he felt completely justified ignoring the noise.

From somewhere beside him, Clint heard a familiar groan and felt the mattress move as Phil buried his head underneath a pillow.  “Clint, there is someone at your door,” Phil grumbled, his voice muffled.

“Mmm hmm,” Clint agreed sleepily, rolling onto his back and willing whoever it was to go away; he and Phil had only gotten in from their mission at three the night before and seriously, if people wanted them to be coherent, they could go away and come back later.

“Do you think it’s important?” Phil said, his head still under the pillow.  “Am I going to have to get up and deal with this?”

Stubbornly refusing to open his eyes, Clint tried to hang onto the edges of sleep, but he knew it wasn’t working.  “If it was important, they would have called first,” he pointed out, before grabbing the spare pillow and shoving it over his face in an attempt to drown out the incessant banging.

As if to spite him, his phone started ringing angrily.  Reaching out a hand with a sigh, Clint felt around the bedside table for the offensive object before he brought it to his ear.  “What?” he snapped.

“Are you going to let me in, asshole?” Tony Stark’s exasperated voice greeted him.  “I’ve been banging on your door for like ten minutes now.”

Clint lifted the pillow off his face.  “Stark?”

“Yes, me,” Stark replied.  “Did you forget you’re supposed to be helping me test out arrows in the range today, Legolas?”

Frowning in confusion, Clint looked up at the ceiling for a beat.  “Stark… why are you calling me if you’re outside my door?” he asked, because he was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.  “Why hasn’t JARVIS said anything?  Is JARVIS okay?”

“JARVIS,” Stark snapped, “is a dirty, rotten _traitor_.”

“I am functioning perfectly, sir,” JARVIS’ dry voice intoned.  “I merely took the liberty of informing Mister Stark that you were not to be disturbed this morning.  I believe he is upset with me as I have refused to open the door to your suite for him.”

Clint grinned, his eyes sliding shut as he hung up on Stark’s irritated squawk.  “JARVIS,” he said.  “You’re awesome, you know that?”

“Thank you, sir,” JARIVS replied.

Snuggling back down into the bed, Clint buried his face into the pillow with a contented sigh, determined to go back to sleep.  He should have known better, because Stark was a stubborn and persistent kind of bastard.  Clint groaned a second later when he heard the thump of angry footsteps heading towards the bedroom just before the bedroom door was thrown open.  Clint knew he should have barricaded or booby-trapped it before he’d gone to sleep.  “Katniss!” Stark called out.  “Are you… oh.”

Squinting open an eye again, Clint watched as Stark stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the second person in Clint’s bed.  In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best way of informing the billionaire that Clint was sleeping with — and in mutually requited love with, thank you very much — his former handler, but Stark was the one that had gone barging into people’s bedrooms.

“Barton,” Stark said after a moment.  “You have a naked Agent in your bed.”

Clint smiled, but refused to move.  “Nice observation there, genius,” he replied.

“This is a very disturbing development, Barton,” Stark grumbled.

“I did warn you, sir, that you would not like what you found should you choose to enter Agent Barton’s rooms,” JARVIS chimed in.

The heartfelt sigh from beside Clint, even muffled as it was by the pillow, made Clint grin.  “Clint, Tony Stark is in our bedroom,” Phil said.

With a sigh, Clint waved a hand towards Stark.  “I’m getting up,” he muttered.

Flopping over, Clint attempted to kiss Phil good morning and also in apology for the fact Tony Stark really was standing in their bedroom, only to find Phil still firmly had his head buried under his pillow in defiance of being woken up.  Instead of kissing him, Clint had to settle for kissing Phil’s nearest body part, which turned out to be his stomach.  For a moment, Clint pressed his nose to Phil’s warm skin, before placing a kiss next to Phil’s bellybutton.  He bit back a yawn, wanting nothing more than to stay exactly where he was and sleep damn it, but he could feel Stark’s eyes boring into his back.  When he made a move to drag himself up, Clint felt Phil’s hand shift to his shoulder to keep him in place and Clint didn’t need to be told twice — with a happy hum, he placed a second kiss to Phil’s stomach and sprawled across the bed again.

Flicking his eyes up, he watched Phil emerge from underneath his pillow to fix Stark with a glare that had been known to send junior agents scurrying for cover.  Clint couldn’t help but smile at the sight — even with dishevelled hair and naked to the waist, Phil Coulson was still a _badass_.  “Clint is not going anywhere,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Stark.  “He’s supposed to be sleeping.   _We’re_ supposed to be sleeping.”

He paused for a moment, eyeing Stark like Clint had seen him eye terrorists, right before he laid them out flat in less than five seconds.  “And you will never enter our bedroom without express permission again, understood?” he added.

“Trust me, Agent,” Stark said, “I would rather _never_ get an eyeful, so that’s one rule I will happily obey.”

“Good,” Phil replied.  “Now go away.”

For once, Stark beat a hasty retreat, although Clint could hear him bitching to JARVIS the whole way.  “Mmm,” he said, stretching like a cat and pressing a kiss to Phil’s ribs.  “That was awesome.  I’m totally going to show you exactly how awesome as soon as we wake up again.”

Phil yawned.  “That’s nice,” he muttered into his pillow.

Clint was still smiling when he drifted off to sleep again, Phil warm and pliant underneath him and Phil’s hand still on his shoulder.


	19. Nick/Tony/Clint/Phil, forehead kisses

sevencorvus, Nick/(Coulson, Clint. or Tony), Forehead Kiss

(Okay, so I couldn’t decide who got to kiss Nick, so THEY ALL DID.  Also, I am so, so sorry, but it got really cracky at the end.  I blame the sugar I ate and the fact that it’s 4 am)

Nick Fury stared out over the deck of his Helicarrier and decided that as much as he really, _really_ wanted to, throwing the Avengers over the side would probably get him in trouble.  From who, he wasn’t entirely sure, but Phil sometimes got a little cranky about things like that.  It was almost a shame that they were currently floating somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, because Nick felt like it would be a lot more satisfying flinging Tony Stark off the side of his Helicarrier when they were 10,000 feet in the air.

His Helicarrier was covered in Christmas lights.

_Motherfucking Christmas lights._

Not to mention the rest of his usually neat flight deck was covered in purple paint, toilet paper and several half naked bodies.  They were going to be _dead_ bodies by the time Nick was finished with them.  Nick pinched the bridge of his nose as if that would help his sudden headache.

“You’re not going to like the explanation for this one, sir,” the cool voice of Maria Hill said.

Nick turned to fix her with a pointed stare.  “Oh?” he replied.

Maria, because she’d clearly been taking lessons from Phil in how to be a sassy asshole, arched an eyebrow as if Nick didn’t get to be sassy back, despite being Director of a clandestine intelligence agency and technically her boss.  Nick just glared back, because his Helicarrier was covering in _Christmas lights_.  “It was genetically engineered slime monsters,” Maria explained.

“Genetically engineered slime monsters covered my Helicarrier in Christmas lights and toilet paper?” Nick snapped.

“No, the Avengers and several other agents covered your Helicarrier in Christmas lights and toilet paper,” Maria said patiently.  “The slime from the genetically engineered slime monsters just removed all their inhibitions so that felt compelled to do so.”

Nick opened his mouth to ask another question, but Maria cut him off with a pointed glance of her own.  “I did send you a report,” she said.

Frowning, Nick turned back to the mess that was his flight deck.  Maria sighed.  “Which you didn’t read, did you?”

“I was only gone _two days_ ,” Nick grumbled.

“Yes,” Maria agreed, her voice suddenly tired.  “And normally we would have cleaned up this mess by now, only Agent Coulson was one of the group that got… slimed.”

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose again.  This _was not_ good.  “So what you’re saying is that one of my best senior agents was involved in this mess?” he said, waving his hand in the general direction of the flight deck.

“Actually, sir,” Maria said, “what I’m saying is that one of your best senior agents was the chief instigator of this mess.”

Straightening his shoulders because he was the Director of SHIELD and he’d dealt with worse messes than this, Nick took a deep breath, but before he could stalk out onto the flight deck itself, he saw the huddled pile of superheroes in the middle of the mess suddenly unfurl.  As Tony Stark, Dr Banner and what appeared to be Agents Sitwell and May scurried backwards, whatever they’d been kneeling over gave a bright spark and _exploded_.  Smoke billowed for a moment, before the four coughing figures emerged and stumbled to a halt in front of Nick.

“I told you that you used too much gunpowder!” Phil’s voice called out from where he was standing from a safe distance away.

Nick was absolutely not going to ask why Phil had his tie tied around his head.  He was also going to pretend he hadn’t noticed Thor, Agent Romanoff and _Captain America_ sleeping in what he hoped was just a mostly naked _platonic_ puppy pile on the corner of his deck.  It seemed the best choice for his ongoing sanity.

“Have faith, Phillip!” Stark called out.  “We’ll get it right.”

“Do I want to know what the hell you were doing to my flight deck, Stark?” Nick barked before this mess could get any worse.

“Boss!” Agent Sitwell called out with a grin.  “You’re here!”

“Shut up, Jasper!” Phil called out.

“Yeah, shut up Jasper,” Stark mocked.

Jasper narrowed his eyes at Stark.  “Don’t get me started on you, Stark,” he growled.

Nick opened his mouth to say something, when Clint Barton suddenly dropped into view in front of him.  He was upside down and from what Nick could tell, apparently hanging from the railing on the floor above.  “Hey Director,” Clint said with a grin.  “Did you know that you’re a very handsome man?”

“Barton,” Nick said with a tired sigh.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Paying you a compliment?” Clint replied, looking endearingly hesitant.

Nick shut his eye and sighed again.  “Thank you, Barton…” he began, but his words abruptly trailed off when he felt the soft press of lips against his forehead.  He snapped his eye open again.  “Barton, did you just kiss me?”

Clint shrugged, before grinned.  “You’re totally handsome, Boss, I had to,” he said.  “Plus, Phil wouldn’t let me kiss him because he’s a meanie.”

“Yes, Barton, I’m sure he is,” Nick said as he heard the distinct sounds of Maria sniggering beside him.

“Hey!” Stark yelled.  “Barton kissed Fury!  That is totally not fair.  Where’s my kiss?”

“He was my best friend first!” Phil shouted back.  “If anyone gets to kiss him, it’s me!”

“I suggest you give in, sir,” Maria said from beside him, her eyes still dancing with laughter.  “They get pretty stubborn when they don’t get their way.”

With herculean amounts of patience, Nick bent down to let both Stark and Phil kiss him on the forehead too.  Not for the first time, he wondered how the _motherfucking hell_ this had become a usual Tuesday in his life.  When the inhibition-free superheroes were finally stratified and had presumably moved on to plotting some other ridiculous form of property destruction, Nick turned to Maria.  “I’m not even going to ask how long until this wears off,” he said.  “Just… fix it.  For the love of God, _please fix it_.”

Then he turned around and headed straight for his office.  Hopefully he could barricade himself in there until it was all over.


End file.
